


Live to Serve

by stardropdream



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A good king will serve his people as much as the people will serve a good king,” Merlin says softly.  Arthur "services" Merlin in the throne room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live to Serve

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a long time since I wrote just straight-up PWP and this is the first time writing merthur fic so. Take of that what you will... I am also sure this has been done before but whatever /flies away

His knees must ache, the hard stone pressing against him as he arches down over Merlin, hands splaying across his thighs and shifting up to brush over his hips. Merlin makes a soft, pleased sound and shifts his hips up and feels the way Arthur smiles against his stomach, lips curling over his belly button and following the trail of hair down, sliding his tongue and lips over the head of his cock before taking it into his mouth and suckling. 

“A good king will serve his people as much as the people will serve a good king,” Merlin says softly, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he pets his fingers through Arthur’s hair, touching for the sake of touching, unsure what else to do with his hands. He feels entirely too pleased with himself over the words, lounging back against the throne and splaying his thighs further apart to accommodate the king kneeling between them. 

Arthur grunts and pulls back from where he has his mouth wrapped around Merlin’s cock. His face ripples with a scowl, but the anger of his brow doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Merlin,” he drawls, fingers sliding down the length of his cock, thumb pressing at the head and just touching him absently, thoughtfully, “You’ve said that joke about three times now and I’m _still_ not laughing.”

But there’s a lightness in his eyes that betrays him, though, and Merlin knows without a doubt that he’s amused. As if there ever was any doubt – as if he never fully understood what each little expression Arthur made meant. And Arthur makes a soft, pleased sound when Merlin tugs gently at his hair and guides his mouth back to his cock. Arthur goes willingly, his mouth quirked up into a small smile. He takes Merlin’s cock into his mouth and suckles, smirking around it when Merlin sighs out, mumbling out Arthur’s name as a sort of plea, a blessing. Arthur bobs down over him, swallowing around him and suckling, tongue laving over the head and down over the shaft, all lips and tongue and mouth, pillowing over him, lips brushing over the head of his cock pressing it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and blinking up at Merlin, watching his reaction carefully – as if there could be any doubt of what Merlin wants, as if the evidence doesn’t weigh heavy in Arthur’s fingers and mouth. Merlin nods, mouthing out nonsense as Arthur moves, fingers curled around him and following the curve of his mouth. 

“Come on, I know you can take in more,” Merlin teases, voice breathless, feeling as if he’s about to burst at any moment, like his skin is too warm and his eyes are too wavering, wanting to take in the sight before him but afraid it’ll be too much.

Arthur gives him a sharp look, not quite insulted but close, and Merlin laughs, breathlessly. The laugh only serves to make Arthur blush, up to his ears, and Merlin pets through his hair gently, charmed and endeared to such shyness, despite the cock in his mouth. 

But Arthur rises to the occasion. He curls his fingers tight around Merlin and strokes, and pulls back enough to murmur, dark and only half-teasing, “Yes, _sire._ ”

And really, that shouldn’t make Merlin shiver, and it’s not the first time Arthur has said such a thing in jest, mocking him. But it’s different now. And Arthur strokes over his cock quickly, desperately, as if just daring him to come. Merlin gasps out, arching up, hips trembling. Arthur smiles his victory and ducks his head down, swallowing around him, taking in enough of him that he does choke, tensing up, before he manages to bob his head down further, taking him in further. 

Merlin watches him in satisfied silence, his breath hitching and sighing out accordingly. He isn’t able to speak, wouldn’t want to even if he could – for once actually shutting up (and wouldn’t Arthur be thrilled about that, if he wasn’t so distracted?) and watches as Arthur swallows around him, taking him in deep, tongue curling around him, before pulling back to splay his lips hard over the cockhead and down the shaft, up over the root and across his pelvis and hips, pressing soft, attentive kisses to skin that isn’t his cock, and Merlin feels a flood of warmth curling through him, his voice hitching into soft, broken sounds, encouraging and desperate. 

Merlin’s breath comes harder now, and Arthur’s fingers are only lightly touching over his cock, mouth pressing lightly over his thigh, trembling beneath his lips, and he knows he’s grinning like a fool, flushed and looking manic, and finding that he really doesn’t care, really couldn’t care less if it meant that Arthur would keep touching him like this. His fingers card through his hair, drop down to trace over the shell of his ear, dragging down over his cheek, feeling the outline of his cock as Arthur turns his head accordingly, letting Merlin’s cock press into his mouth again, press up against his cheek. Merlin hisses in a sharp breath. 

Merlin watches as Arthur smiles, attentive to his task, mouth curled around the head of his cock, tongue pressing at the slit and tracing over him, fingers sliding up and thumb pressing to the cockhead. Thumb and mouth curl over him and Merlin feels himself shake and shudder, and he watches, panting, as Arthur sucks at the tip, eyes blinking up at him – blue, far too blue – and watching him again for his reaction. Merlin almost wishes he could look dissatisfied or unimpressed, but he knows he’s a shaking mess, pleased and desperate for that touch and attention, thrilling at every little touch Arthur deigns to give him, even when on his knees as he is. 

And then Arthur touches his hand, drags it back to his hair, nods a little when Merlin obediently curls his fingers tight into his hair. Arthur’s glare when Merlin tugs on his hair is gentle and somehow encouraging as well, and Merlin does it again, trying to drag Arthur in closer, trying to drag him down deeper. Arthur is focusing now, eyes lowered, eyelashes pretty across his cheeks as he laves his tongue along Merlin’s feverish skin, pillowing his lips again along his cock. Arthur’s hands grip Merlin’s hips, holding him in place as he drags his mouth down hard over his cock, kissing from tip to base, all lips and tongue as he drags his mouth over him, barest touches that leave Merlin wild. 

Arthur’s tongue laps at the slit of his cock before he pulls away. He holds Merlin’s cock gently, glancing at Merlin and waiting for Merlin’s shaky nod to keep going before he smirks his victory before taking the cock back into his mouth, letting it bulge up against his cheek, stretching his lips thin over the cock as he takes it in deep, closing his eyes in concentration. 

Arthur bobs lower on Merlin’s cock, and squeezes Merlin’s hips and thighs, moving his hands over Merlin, as if worshipping him – swearing his loyalty to him. And it’s almost enough that Merlin comes then, if only because the display is too much – sprawled out as he is over Arthur’s throne as Arthur lays worship to his cock, mouth and tongue insistent in its advances. But he holds out – he waits, he grasps at Arthur desperately, murmuring his name in encouragement, smiling an apology when he slips out a small _my lord_ because in this moment that’s meant to be Arthur’s line and Merlin almost laughs for it, and restrains himself because he doesn’t want Arthur to stop. Never wants him to stop. 

He feels Arthur relax, stare up at him, and Merlin understands the silent prompting. He hisses out a soft curse under his breath as he pushes himself further into Arthur’s mouth, easing his way down his throat. Arthur stills, welcoming him even as his body tenses up, still unused to the intrusion, still trying to get himself to relax. He shifts uneasily, his knees probably aching at this point, and Merlin’s touch in his hair is gentle, even though Arthur would say that’s not what he wants. Arthur relaxes, save for one brief moment when he feels his throat spasm, almost gags. Arthur betrays no difficulty on his face, however, aside from the slightest twitch of his eyes before they flare up in desire again and he finally, finally lowers his gaze, staring at Merlin’s naval as his nose brushes against the expanse of skin, Merlin’s cock deep in his throat. His hands scrabble uselessly at the arms of the throne, and he breathes out harsh through his nose, his back bowed as he lowers himself down over Merlin. Arthur swallows around his cock and it takes all Merlin’s restrain not to thrust into him with abandon. He doesn’t dare move, even though the throne really isn’t comfortable, at the end of the day, and his body quivers and shakes with the effort not to lay waste to Arthur’s mouth, to take his king as he sees fit, as his king wishes to be taken. 

He watches as Arthur’s hand shifts, sneaking down to touch himself, and Merlin bites his lip and then shakes his head, taking a moment of daring, delighting in the way his eyes light up as he teases. 

“Hands off,” he orders, and he’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake, despite his desire. Again, Arthur’s eyes flash up at him and he glares, not out of true anger, and Merlin grins at him, victorious. “I’ll assume the ‘Yes, My Lord’ is implied, since your mouth’s full.”

If his mouth weren’t full, Merlin knows that Arthur would sputter – and possibly hit him for it. And there’s a brief moment when Merlin wonders if he went too far before Arthur does as he’s commanded to, and moves his hand away with a soft moan around his cock, hand falling to Merlin’s hip instead, thumb tracing over his hipbone. 

Perhaps determined to one-up Merlin now, Arthur renews his efforts, suckling and licking over him as he slowly starts to move his mouth over him, taking him in deep and pulling away to swallow back around him all over again. He tugs on Merlin’s hip and Merlin understands the command and thrusts his hips up, slowly, to meet his mouth. Arthur grunts softly, choking for half a moment, and Merlin almost pulls back apologetically before Arthur closes his eyes and moans, stroking his fingers over the base of Merlin’s cock, the rest of him he can’t get to, and Merlin moans, too, as Arthur sucks him down, determined to suck him dry. 

Merlin lets out a soft, happy sigh and he jerks up again. Arthur makes another quiet sound that could have been satisfaction, though it was always hard to tell with Arthur sometimes, even in these moments, and ducks his head against Merlin again, taking the cock into his mouth again and stroking his tongue along the underside of his cock. His breath is hot, shallow, pressing up against his skin and drifting away into the suffocating heat of the moment, and despite the long expanse of the room, all cool stone and high ceilings, Merlin feels as if he is suffocating and he quakes on the throne. Arthur scoots closer, hands on him, hot against his skin, skin hot beneath his touch. 

And then Arthur is pulling back and Merlin actually does whimper, despite himself, fingers tight in Arthur’s hair. 

“ _Arthur_ ,” he whimpers quietly, nowhere close to begging but willing to do so if it means Arthur will touch him again.

Arthur grins, slowly, kissing over his thigh. Arthur glances up Merlin’s body, wicked as he tilts Merlin’s cock back a little, slick and twitching even at such a simple touch. With two impersonal fingers, he brushes over Merlin’s cock and Merlin cries out. Arthur looks unreasonably delighted and Merlin wants to wipe that smirk off his face, preferably with his cock, but Arthur is all patience now, seemingly determined to tease him mercilessly. He makes sure Merlin is watching before placing a small kiss at the root of his cock, and then carefully licks Merlin’s balls into his mouth. Merlin moans, dropping his head back against the throne with a dull sound that he hardly registers, blinking up at the ceiling and wondering if his magic is going to short-circuit with pleasure.

“Would you just come already?” Arthur mutters against his balls, brushing his lips back over the root of his cock.

Merlin stutters out a breathless, helpless laugh and nearly does follow that command. He tugs on Arthur’s hair. “I thought the point of this was that I was the master for the day?”

Arthur snorts, and then shifts up to take the tip of Merlin’s cock into his mouth, suckling as he looks up at Merlin. And then makes a show of rolling his eyes. The effect is mostly lost as he suckles happily on Merlin’s cock, cheeks flushed and ears red. 

“I should have known better,” Arthur sighs out as he pulls away, pillowing his lips down the length of Merlin’s cock. “You’re far too ridiculous to be any kind of master. The ears aren’t very kingly at all.”

Now it’s Merlin’s turn to roll his eyes, although then Arthur does something particularly nice with his tongue and it makes Merlin’s breath hitch. He touches at Arthur’s cheek and Arthur turns his head, kissing and biting at Merlin’s fingertips, sucking a few into his mouth briefly until Merlin moans quietly, desperately. 

“Come already,” Arthur says again.

“Make me come,” Merlin commands, petulant. 

“I’m _trying_ , you stubborn fool,” Arthur says, but his tone is light and there’s laughter in his eyes as he kisses at his hip and thigh. 

“Try harder,” Merlin demands, tugging on Arthur’s hair to guide him back to his cock.

“Yes, _Sire_ ,” Arthur says, at once mocking and yet breathless as he obeys. He licks over the head of his cock, and blinks his eyes up at Merlin, almost shy. “But hurry up, because my jaw’s starting to hurt, you stubborn thing.” He clears his throat and adds, softly, “But I’ll serve you however I can.” 

The effect is ruined when he grins and Merlin laughs out softly, stuttering it out between his teeth, and tugs on Arthur’s hair gently. Merlin doesn't trust his voice, doesn’t trust himself to speak and he knows that Arthur’s thrilling in the fact that he’s made Merlin speechless with something so innocent, something that Merlin says to Arthur every day.

So he huffs out a small laugh and manages a quiet, “A good king serves his people, after all.”

And Arthur, again, looks annoyed by the joke, and almost pulls back. Merlin shakes his head quickly. His blood is pumping so fast he can hear it in his ears, and his body aches with want. He lifts his hips a little, inviting, tugging gently at Arthur’s hair to keep him close, delighting in the way Arthur’s pouting lips brush over his naval. 

When he can trust his voice again, Merlin licks his lips and tugs harder on the hair, rocking his hips up towards Arthur’s face. He orders, “Make me come, then.”

Arthur sets to doing just that, collecting him in his mouth again with great care, sucking gently and inhaling and exhaling slowly around the cockhead, pressing it up against his tongue and making soft, appreciative sounds – as if this is all he’s ever wanted, shifting uncomfortably upon the stone floor, kneeling before the throne, and laying waste to Merlin. He kisses against the cock and Merlin shivers, closing his eyes and playing gently with Arthur’s hair, sighing out his name and arching up, his hips rocking to meet his mouth. 

The wet noises, the sucking, the swallows, and there, just slightly – the smallest little moan—

And Merlin thrills in these moments, when Arthur lets himself be before him like this, when their eyes can meet and there’s that strange moment between them. It’s almost too much. 

Merlin jerks his hips up, sucking in a sharp breath and Arthur loosens his mouth around him, letting Merlin stroke into his mouth, takes more of his cock into him, tongue pressing along the underside as he works to swallow around him, lips quirked up into a small smile. Merlin lets one hand falls from Arthur’s hair to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently when Arthur does something particularly pleasant again with his tongue. 

“Arthur,” he whispers out and his voice sounds too far away and distant on his ears, too high and too light and he knows he’s close, touching at Arthur slowly, just dragging his fingers over him as Arthur works over his cock. That warning, of course, seems only to motivate Arthur further, who presses wet, sloppy kisses over him, laving his tongue down the length of him and curling sinfully around the head of his cock, brushing his lips gently over the tip as he blinks up at him, watching him closely for his reaction, seeming far too satisfied by the reactions for someone kneeling before a throne. 

Merlin shakily exhales Arthur’s name as Arthur swallows around him again, and Arthur moans in reply and Merlin feels it through his entire being and his toes curl in his boots as he bites his lip hard, arching up as Arthur suckles around him, stroking down over the base of his cock where Arthur’s mouth can’t reach. 

“Y- yes,” he manages quietly as Arthur bobs down over him, moaning quietly. “Arthur—”

Arthur curls his other arm around Merlin’s waist, keeping him close, hand flat against the curve of his back, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks Merlin in earnest, fingers squeezing around him and tongue pressing up against the head and Merlin fucks mercilessly into his king’s mouth. 

And then Merlin tenses up and he’s coming with a softly muffled moan, whimpering out Arthur’s name as he rocks up into that willing mouth, and Arthur tries to swallow it all, resisting the urge to gag by pulling back enough so just the tip is in his mouth, tongue and lips working him as he milks him dry, fingers stroking over him in a blur. He watches Merlin the entire time, even when Merlin throws his head back with a soft thud against the worn wood of the throne, his moan broken as he rocks into Arthur and Arthur continues to hold him close, the hand on his cock shifting eventually to cup his hip and guide his movements into a steady pace, and he lets Merlin rut into him until he’s spent. 

Arthur slowly pulls back, breathing out shakily, his chest panting with the effort of it, hands shaking as he holds tight to Merlin. He lifts one hand to wipe absently at his mouth for any come that escaped, and his lips are puffy and red from the exertion. 

And then he looks up at Merlin, and there’s no begging or pleading, but that request is in his eyes as he looks to him. Merlin can see it and knows it’s reflected in his own eyes. And all Merlin can do is nod his head. 

Arthur heaves out a small, pleased sigh and he struggles to his feet, his legs trembling a bit with the effort of his arousal, and he sways in front of Merlin before he shifts forward, moving to straddle Merlin as he sits on the throne. He squares his knees beside Merlin’s hips, slotting into place, straddling over Merlin’s thighs. And Arthur lifts shaky hands to cup Merlin’s jaw as he leans down and kisses him desperately, deeply, his breath coming out in short bursts of desperate need. 

Merlin kisses him back, sliding his hands down over Arthur’s chest, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles of his tunic, and brushes over his shoulders, pushing back the cape he wears, bright red and worn beneath his fingertips. His fingers curl desperately into it and he tugs Arthur in closer, and rocks up against the heavy heat of Arthur’s cock between them. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispers into the kiss, and it is at once a request and a command. 

And Merlin just smiles into the kiss and obeys, dropping his hand down to undo the laces of Arthur’s trousers and curl his hand down against him, stroking him quickly and mercilessly, thrilling at the way Arthur cries out quietly into the kiss, rocking up desperately against him, rutting into his hand. 

Arthur is a heavy, pleasing weight over his lap and he strokes him quickly, wanting to make him come, wanting to just hold him and kiss him and stay like this – and obeying him, curling his fingers around Arthur’s cock and stroking him off. He barely has to touch him at all before Arthur is coming with a loud moan, arching up and tipping his head back, breaking the kiss to pant up at the ceiling, his chest heaving. Merlin strokes him through it, hand cupped over him, his other hand sliding up underneath the tunic and stroking over his chest, feeling at the way his body clenches and shifts under his touch, fingers splayed out across the chest. 

Slowly, Arthur relaxes again, sighing out and slumping, pressing his forehead against the top of Merlin’s head, trying to steady his breathing, trembling against Merlin. Merlin sighs out, kissing at his neck and jaw, sated and happy. 

“My Lord?” he asks, and there’s a happiness there that borders on teasing when Arthur only gives a small grunt as response. “Serving the people is hard work, it seems.”

“Shut up,” Arthur says, with no real weight or venom, and turns his head down to nuzzle into his hair, breathing out against his ear, lips brushing against it enough that Merlin knows he’s smiling. “You’re such an idiot.” 

Merlin rolls his eyes and straightens out Arthur’s tunic for him, smoothing out the folds of the cape billowing out away from the throne. He wipes his hand on his own trouser leg because he knows better and doesn’t particularly want Arthur throwing him away from him because he gets all moody about his clothes. He does the laces to Arthur’s trousers up again and lifts his other hand to play with Arthur’s hair, smoothing it down for him, smiling gently as he lets his fingers trace over Arthur’s face, thumb pressing over the swell of his bottom lip. 

“Idiot,” Arthur says again, softer this time. Merlin rolls his eyes again and tugs Arthur down, kissing him softly.


End file.
